Danny's Song
by bubble-rouge08
Summary: [DANNYcentric, nonpairing] What kind of relationship did Danny have with his old man?
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: I'm back! Your friendly neighborhood SMACker is back… but not with a SMACked fic. Judging my the title, can you guess what this is about? Going once… going twice… you guessed it! DANNY MESSER.**_

_**This is another one of my experimental fics. I am in no way leaving SMACked – but having written 5 or so in a row drained me out. But I do have at least two in the works; and it **_**is**_** SMACked. But for this one… well, I have an Aiden-centric (somewhat) and a Flack-centric fic so I decided what the heck. Here's my Danny-centric one.**_

_**But the way I'm attacking this is more on a flashback… daddy Messer's POV. I did some research about New York, Staten Island, Yonkers, Tanglewood, the mafia and whatnot for this project. I named his mom and dad on this, as well as giving them backgrounds since TPTB are so gracious with information. Basically, the first part is AU and in no way connected with the reel deal.**_

_**I'm excited to share this with you and I hope you join me in this, even if this is not SMACked. Thank you!**_

_**The song is by Loggins and Messina, appropriately entitled…**_

**DANNY'S SONG**

**©CATE**

_People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one_

_And we've just begun, think I'm gonna have a son_

"O dios mio," my wife screamed in pain. "Francesco! You get here _this instant_," I heard her from the kitchen. "_Fretta_!" I ran from our room, finding her sitting on the floor and hugging her swollen stomach.

It was late at night. I was watching another Western movie off local channels to coax some sleep. My pregnant wife, Rosa was peacefully dozing off to my right, oblivious to the fake gunshot sounds. When I was about to turn the TV off, she stirred and mumbled something about being thirsty and stood up. I decided to wait for her to come back before I went to sleep.

My thoughts drifted back to those fake gunshots. Oh yeah, even in my sleep, I _know_ they're fake. I grew up in and around the Mafia. My father was in it and his father before him. I could trace my roots back to Sicily, where it came from. The big tattoo between my shoulder blades is sentiment enough that I have continued with the family _tradition_, so to speak.

Rosa had not the privilege – or _curse_, whatever you want to call it – of growing up in that. Her grandparents were immigrants from Lombardia. Her grandfather got a job here in Staten Island, New York and at age two, Rosa and her Italian father and American mother and two siblings adjusted to life with Uncle Sam. We went to the same high school, where we met and fell in love. I promised her parents and two older brothers that I will take very good care of her, that she doesn't have to work for I had more than enough for the both of us. Little did they know I was on my way to be a _big boss_ on my own. I hid my affiliation from Rosa until our first night as a married couple. She's the most beautiful girl in town – I was so thankful that she'd go for someone like me – I was nothing without my tattoo.

She asked about my tattoo… and, "What does Tanglewood mean?" That night, we had little sleep and lots of talking. She was visibly shaken – scared even – having married a mafia guy. I thought she was going to bolt out when I was finished with my explanation. But she held my hand and kissed me, saying, "I trust you. I know you'll keep me safe. And please, Franco… be careful."

I kept to that promise the best I could. I kept her safe and myself… well, danger comes with the territory unfortunately. Rosa wasn't comfortable having several guns hidden in the basement of our house or having my _friends_ over for dinner. Because of that, I didn't have the heart to tell her about the drugs I hid behind the bookcase. It was like living two lives. One with the Tanglewood crowd and when I'm at home, I _must_ leave it at the door. Every time I go out of our house, I know she says a little prayer for my safety. Before meeting her, I was this fearless man, ready to face anything. But now… the thought of not seeing her anymore – if I get shot and die or something – _scared me_.

More so when she had our first son, Louie. She named him after her older brother who died a month before. He was a big baby, strong lungs when he first got out to the world, strong arms and legs; would give his mother hell come bathing time. At an early age, I saw that he was interested in the lifestyle. I would bring him to my _discreet_ meetings and he would sit on the floor sucking a Tootsie Pop or playing with his toy gun. It was clear that my little Louie will follow his Papa's footsteps. Rosa wasn't really happy with that. She did everything to protect him from that. But Louie was always his father's son.

Six years later, that little boy of mine was sleeping in his racecar bed. His thick brown hair, just like my own (although mine is slowly falling off), wide eyes like his mother. My wife is eight months pregnant with our second child – a second son. She expressed her desire to raise this second little Messer _her_ way. Meaning, away from the mafia life. I gave her the green light but deep inside, I _knew_ it was impossible. My own mother wanted that for me but here I am now. From all my brothers, I was the only one accepted to be an official Tanglewood boy. Nobody can change the fact that I am Franco Messer – one of the big bosses.

My thoughts were interrupted when I heard my Rosa scream out in pain. I stumbled down the stairs to the kitchen. "What are you standing there for?" she cried out, trying to stand up but only was able to get up and sit on a chair. "This baby of yours will not wait."

"What?" I exclaimed. "But Rosa, it's too early." My hands were shaking. It was only eight months.

"Tell _your son_ that, Franco," she was about to say something else when a contraction hit her. "Hurry… wake Louie up and we'll make our way to the hospital, d'accordo? Ho bisogno di un dottore!"

I felt myself nodding and the next thing I knew, I was behind the wheel en route to the nearest hospital. Louie was in the backset, sleeping and drooling on the gym bag I brought with me. I tossed whatever clothes I could in there. We were totally unprepared for this. Rosa was controlling her breathing and the pain as much as she could – screaming here and there in pain and how, "I'm _not_ going through this _again_, Franco. D'you hear me?" _Yes, amore._

_**DANNYDANNYDANNYDANNY**_

_So that's it so far. I'm not sure how long this will take – but it'll end by "Charge of this Post". Now, for the Italian. I am terribly sorry if I mess things up. I don't know a peep of Italian, only Filipino, English and Spanish (and some Mandarin Chinese)._

_Fretta – hurry_

_Ho bisogno di un dottore – I need a doctor_


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N: So far so good. Doing well with this experiment. **_

_**Well, I'm still researching and for creative reasons, also making up stuff as I go along. I know nothing of Louie's and Danny's childhood nor how their parents are with them.**_

_**So I hope you like this next part. A **_**star**_** will be born.**_

_**DANNYDANNYDANNYDANNY**_

There was one hospital in the area that is somewhat under the Tanglewood's thumb. A member, especially a big boss was always given special treatment at a special price. Not that I could not afford it – heck, I can afford the best for my family. Rosa began to bleed when we loaded her to the wheelchair. Louie began to cry and scream saying that he wanted to ride on the 'wheels' too. As bad as it might sound, I ignored him, carried him caveman-style and followed the nurses into the ER. Right now, I just want my wife and my coming baby to be all right.

It was particularly quiet in the ER, only filled with doctor terms, my wife's moaning and Louie's irritating screams. I swear, if he doesn't stop… "Louie, baby," I heard my Rosa calmly say to our little boy, "could you keep silent for a while, honey? We'll get a chance to ride the wheels a little later." It was incredible how she managed to keep calm amid the pain and shock. "Or maybe you can go back to sleep, si? Then maybe when you wake up, you'll have your little brother to play with. Is that good?"

Louie stopped crying and looked at his mother with wide eyes. There were tears running down his cheeks and _something_ from his nose. He wiped them callously with the sleeve of his shirt and mumbled, "Yesh, Mommy." I looked at Rosa and her pained smile; I knew she was hiding the pain. She stayed brave.

The moment didn't last because the doctor attending to her – Dr. Melendez or something like that tapped me on the shoulder. A nurse took Louie away to one of the spare rooms. "Non capisco! This is too early, doctor," I began to babble. I tend to do that if I'm in a tight spot and when I don't know what to do. It's like a panic attack. "She's only eight months along and the baby… we've – she's been careful. Can you do something… make them safe." I didn't know how long I went on over the screaming of my Rosa and the continued "CBC and saline. Okay, she's dilated. And losing blood fast…" of the doctors and nurses around her.

"Mr. Messer," Dr. Melendez said, "we have to deliver now or we risk both the lives of your wife and baby." I hate it when they have to be _that_ straight forward. In my world, we have a hundred different lingoes on dying… just not to make it look obvious. But this doctor was telling me that my wife and unborn kid _could_ die. "I'm giving her ten more minutes or else we have to do a C-section," she said serenely as if my wife wasn't begging for anything to alleviate the pain.

My lips started moving but no sound came out. I licked them erratically and pointed to Rosa. "Can… can you give her anything? She's in pain, damn it!" I babbled again. "What in hell's name are you putting into her? Is that safe for the baby?"

I felt sweat trickle down my back and forehead. I wrung my hands and I felt tears sting my eyes. "Sir, ten minutes," she said again, stilling me. "If nothing changes, _then_ we operate." I glanced warily at my wife and back at the doctor. "Ten minutes."

I was about to concede when Rosa screamed something unintelligible either in Italian or English. Tears were running freely down her beautiful face and she was asking for help. I snapped and said, "That's it! Those ten minutes can fuck themselves. Do that operation _now_." With that, Dr. Melendez instructed her team to prepare the delivery room and a solo room for later.

As they wheeled Rosa to the OR, she grasped my hand and said, "Spiacente, mi Franco. Spiacente…" My heart broke when she apologized. That's when my own tears came out.

"Mi amore, you don't have to be sorry about anything," I said, kissing her knuckles. "You're incredible and we'll see this through." We stopped in front of a pair of doors and they said I couldn't go in. "Be safe, my love. Ti amo."

Even in that situation, she found the strength to laugh. "Those are my lines, Franco," and she was taken in. The nurse told me that I can stay with Louie in the room they put him in and he was indeed back to sleeping. But I'd rather stay here… in case anything happens.

I sat on the benches by the corridor. There was relative silence in the delivery room. After fifteen minutes, a nurse came up to me with the bag I packed and Louie in tow. He was rubbing sleep off his eyes and asked about his mother. I told him that she's okay and he went back to sleep, his head on my lap.

I kept my ears open, in case I hear a baby's cry. Through the years, my hearing had been my best sense. Years of being told to 'shut the fuck up and listen' paid off. Thirty minutes since she was brought in there, and still nothing. I caressed my son's hair and prepared myself for the worst. I could see how disappointed Louie would be if anything bad would happen to his little brother. He loved him from the moment we told him that his mother's pregnant.

A few moments later, seven nurses rushed out of the delivery room wheeling a box-like crib with them. When I stood up and asked what's going on, they just ignored me and stormed off somewhere. In the crib, I managed to see a red blob wrapped in a white sheet with tubes coming from the bundle. My blood ran cold. _It wasn't good._

Then Dr. Melendez went out of the room to meet me. "What in God's holy name is going on?" I demanded, my voice echoing in the empty hallway. "Where's my wife and where is my baby boy?"

She placed a hand on my shoulder, leading me away from Louie who was fully awake and sitting up straight. "Maybe we shouldn't let your son hear this," she whispered. I nodded weakly and followed her. "Your wife is okay. She was stable all throughout the procedure and she's resting right now."

I wasn't a religious person but I sighed a prayer to the Lord above when I heard that. "And my baby? Is he all right?"

The doctor chewed on her lip and began hesitantly. "Your son… he wasn't breathing when we pulled him out. He had bluish lips and his limbs were unresponsive," she took another deep breath. "The umbilical cord was wrapped around his neck. We got him out just in the nick of time." 

"Is he…" I gulped down my own saliva and sickness. I thought I was this big brave man but I couldn't even get the words out. "Is my boy… _dead_?" A single tear dropped down on my clasped hands. _Please, God_.

Dr. Melendez's features softened a bit. "No, sir. He started breathing when we hooked him on a respirator. I've sent him to the neonatal ICU, receiving the best care." I let go a sigh of sheer relief and collapsed on the floor with a thud. _My wife and child are safe_. "Are you okay, sir?"

I nodded and chuckled. "Now I know how Rosa must feel," I said to myself, standing back up and thanking the good doctor. I walked over to a waiting Louie.

He welcomed me with a wide smile and asked, "Baby brother?" I just gave him a tight hug.

_**DANNYDANNYDANNYDANNY**_

_Italian translation:_

_Non capisco! -- I don't understand!_

_Spiacente – sorry_


End file.
